


worth the fall

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Hospitals, Injury, M/M, Misunderstandings, Painkillers, Snow, bc my boys are terrible communicators, im hitting all the tropes here lol, nothing serious tho! fear not this is (mostly) fluff!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 18:10:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5385488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's almost Christmas in an unnamed city where Dean and Cas are college roommates. An unfortunate patch of ice lands Dean in the hospital, which leads to all kinds of unexpected confessions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	worth the fall

**Author's Note:**

> written for the destiel christmas mini bang! i hope you enjoy reading!

Cas took one look out of his bedroom window and knew he was screwed.

Overnight it had snowed what looked like at least six inches, with more coming down in thick white flurries, and there was no way Cas could cycle to class with conditions like that. To add insult to injury he had overslept (having spent most of the night researching for a paper that was due imminently), meaning he would never make it to his first class in time. 

So yeah, he was screwed.

Cas spent the next five minutes rushing around his apartment like a headless chicken trying to make himself look vaguely presentable, waking his roommate Dean in the process.

“Cas?” Dean asked groggily, emerging from his bedroom. “Wuss goin’ on?”

“I’m late for my nine AM class and it snowed so I can’t take my bike and I’m going to fail college and where is my goddamn scarf?!” Cas said with one garbled breath.

“Woah, hey, no need to panic, there’s no way you’re failin’ anything,” Dean said around a yawn. “Oh shit – isn’t your first class with Professor Mills?” At Cas’ answering nod, Dean grimaced and offered, “Yeah. She’s totally going to murder you.”

“Not helping, Dean!” Cas half-yelled. “Look for my scarf!”

Dean rolled his eyes and walked to the coat rack by their front door. “Shut your mouth, bossy pants. Here, take mine,” he said, pulling a dark blue woollen scarf from under the mound of jackets and wrapping it round Cas’ neck. He looked appraisingly at his friend. “Suits you better’n me anyway.”

There was a moment of tension that caused Cas to hesitate before he remembered his current predicament and shoved past Dean to get to the door. “Go back to bed, Dean. And have a nice day,” he said over his shoulder as he rushed out the front door.

Cas tried not to think about whatever had just happened between him and his roommate, instead shoving it to the back of his mind in a little corner he had aptly labelled ‘Confusing Moments Of Possible Sexual Tension I Have Shared With Dean.’ He needed his wits about him if he wanted to be less than horribly late to his class.

Cas pushed out of the building and gritted his teeth against the harsh chill that hit him square in the face, buttoning his coat up all the way against the cold. He checked his watch and saw that he had five minutes before Professor Mills would start the class, which was unfortunate since it usually took at least fifteen to walk to campus.

But Cas hadn’t been jogging every day for the past five years for nothing.

He took off at a sprint, mindful of the slippery ground and just managing to dodge a truck as he darted across the road. The driver blared his horn but Cas didn’t stop, simply calling out a hurried “Sorry!” as he ran onwards.

If Cas had been thinking straight before he left home he would have worn running shoes or boots rather than flimsy canvas sneakers, but he hadn’t and so here he was, running through the rush hour crowds with snow sloshing into his socks.

After several more near collisions Cas finally saw the faculty building where his seminar was taking place, and he ignored the stitch in his side as he increased his pace in a desperate attempt to make it on time. Just as he reached the front door Cas slipped on an unfortunate patch of ice, worn smooth by the morning’s foot traffic, which landed him painfully on his ass. He didn’t let it slow him down though, simply jumping straight back up and hurrying through the door with the end almost in sight.

Blissfully, miraculously, Cas somehow made it just in time for roll call, slipping in quietly and taking a seat at the back of the class. If Professor Mills noticed his lateness she didn’t call him on it.

Cas spent the rest of the class trying his hardest to concentrate and failing spectacularly. His mind wandered away from discussions about the past historic tense and into the more interesting and infinitely more dangerous territory that was Dean Winchester.

Dean Winchester had come into Cas’ life one glorious night at the start of freshman year, when Cas was too drunk to find his dorm room and Dean was too drunk to care about sharing his for the night. They woke up in the same bed, laughed it off as just another drunken antic, and had pretty much been best friends ever since.

While Cas could only assume that was what Dean thought of him, Cas’ feelings were considerably less platonic. Ever since that first bed-sharing incident three years ago there had been many other similarly bewildering moments that Cas had forced into that neat little corner of his mind, where they sat collecting dust, only to be revisited when his self control was particularly lacking.

Cas looked up with a start as the students around him began packing up their things, ready to head out. He hadn’t even noticed Professor Mills winding up the session. Sighing, he piled his books and pens back into his bag and trudged back out into the snow, his immediate plan to find coffee. Maybe he could try to study in the campus coffee shop before his next class.

The café was unsurprisingly full of students and staff seeking a hot drink and shelter from the snow. Cas queued up for a cinnamon latte then found one of the last free armchairs to throw himself into, pulling his Advanced French Grammar textbook out of his bag in the hope that he could actually get some work done.

One relatively productive hour later, Cas was depositing his empty takeout cup in the trash on his way out of the coffee shop and trudging his way through slushy snow back to the Modern Languages building.

Cas stifled a yawn as he opened the door to the small lecture theatre then glanced down at his pocket in confusion when his phone started vibrating – then didn’t stop. Weird. He almost never got phone calls, and when he did it was invariably Dean, but Dean shouldn’t have finished his morning classes yet so why—

“Dean?” Cas answered the phone, brow still furrowed in bemusement.

“Is this Castiel?” Ice dripped down Cas’ neck at the strange voice. Someone else was calling him from Dean’s phone which could only mean bad news.

“What’s happened?” Cas asked, panic making him raise his voice slightly. The other students in the lecture theatre turned and looked at him curiously.

The voice on the other end of the line sounded placating. “Nothing bad. I’m a doctor at Mercy General, your friend Dean is in the emergency room here. He’s had an accident.”

“An accident?!” More heads turned his way, but Cas ignored them. “That doesn’t sound like ‘nothing bad’ to me! Where is he? Can I speak to him? Is he okay?”

“Castiel – Dean is going to be fine. He fell on some ice and landed badly on his arm—” 

Cas let out some of the breath he’d been holding. The doctor sounded calm so Dean would probably be okay, but he needed to see him to make sure. His heart racing, Cas interrupted, asking again, “Can I speak to him?”

“He was in a lot of pain in the ambulance so they gave him some pretty strong painkillers. We got enough out of him to find out who to call but he’s a little out of it, it would probably be best if you came in to see him.” The doctor’s voice became muffled as she spoke to someone on her end of the line. Returning, she added, “Is there any chance you can come to the hospital? I think Dean would really like to see you. He's likely to be here a good few hours.”

Cas nodded even though the doctor couldn’t see him. “Of course, I’ll be there right away. Thank you for calling me. Tell Dean I’m coming.”

Cas hung up abruptly and barged out of the room, almost bowling over a group of freshman girls in his hurry. He cursed the weather again, this time for causing Dean to hurt himself and for forcing him to walk to the hospital. His heart was still beating double time and he was afraid that if he stopped to think he might actually have a panic attack. The thought of Dean alone in an ambulance, in hospital, in pain, brought hot tears to his eyes. Cas thought the phone call with the doctor may have given him a grey hair or two.

The college Cas and Dean both attended was attached to a pretty large medical school, which fortunately meant the city’s general hospital was not too far from campus. That said Cas would have preferred not to walk in order to reach Dean faster, but he could tell from the state of the roads that buses wouldn’t be running for a good few hours.

Out of breath and overheating under all of his layers, Cas sprinted towards the hospital’s main entrance. He ducked in through the automatic doors and slowed to a hospital-appropriate jog, winding through a maze of white corridors to make his way to the emergency room once. He asked several nurses and doctors before someone would tell him where to find Dean, and then he was there, and Cas could finally breathe again – because Dean was okay. Sure, he was a little banged up and his arm looked all kinds of wrong even with the splint taped to it, but his smile was adorably dopey and he was looking at Cas like he’d hung the moon.

“Caaaaas,” Dean drawled, his charming Midwestern twang more obvious than usual. “My favourite person is here! C’mon man, bring it in.”

Cas smiled at Dean’s typical optimism but decided against leaning in for the proffered hug, choosing instead to pat Dean on his good arm. He didn’t want to cause his friend any more pain. There was still worry in his voice, though, when he asked, “What happened to you?”

“Ahh,” Dean sighed, waving a hand in the air. “Slipped on the steps outside our building. Turns out it’s kind of icy today.” Dean shrugged his shoulders in ‘what can you do?’ gesture and Cas just rolled his eyes.

“You’re ridiculous. I was so worried.” Cas inspected Dean more closely looking for any signs of discomfort. “Are you in pain?”

Dean leaned closer and whispered like he was telling Cas a secret. “Nope. They got me on the good stuff, Cas.” He leaned back against the pillows. “Y’know, a strong young man like you, it’s a shame you weren’t there to catch me. Would’ve saved an awful lot of fuss.”

Dean closed his eyes, oblivious to Cas’ speechlessness or the blush blooming across his cheeks. Typical that even injured and drugged up to his eyeballs Dean Winchester would be a hopeless flirt. 

Typical that Cas would have no idea how to respond to such flirting.

He was mercifully saved from this dilemma when a young doctor stepped past the curtain around Dean’s bed. When she spoke Cas recognised her as the doctor he had talked to over the phone. “Castiel, right? I’m Dr Hogan. I’m so glad you could make it, this one’s been asking for you pretty much non-stop since he came in, right Dean?”

Eyes still closed, Dean shamelessly answered, “Damn right I have.” He opened one eye and squinted at Dr Hogan, as though opening both was too much effort. “Hey Doc, can you tell Cas what the hell is going on with my arm? I know you explained it to me once but uh… I’m not feelin’ so sharp right now what with the morphine and all.”

Dr Hogan laughed and assented, telling Cas that Dean had fractured his right ulna, but that it was only a simple fracture that didn’t need realigning. “Dean had an X-Ray to confirm so now we’re just waiting on someone to take him for a cast.”

Cas breathed a sigh of relief, finally feeling safe in the knowledge that nothing too serious had happened to Dean. He looked down at his friend fondly, trying to be subtle, but something in his face must have given him away because Dr Hogan cleared her throat and when he turned to look at her, she was smiling meaningfully at him. Goddamn doctors with their acute observational skills.

Cas schooled his features and asked, voice gruff, “Any idea how long Dean will have to stay in?”

Dr Hogan kept smiling, now a little smugly, and said, “There’s a bit of a wait for casts – turns out a lot of people break bones when it snows – but it shouldn’t take more than a couple hours to get you guys home.”

The doctor’s pager bleeped and she made to leave, but not before winking at Cas and bidding them both goodbye with a wave and a friendly “See ya!”

Dean opened his eyes, waved half-heartedly and promptly fell back to sleep. Cas sighed. At least he had brought work with him; that would have to do for entertainment. He plopped himself into the chair at Dean’s bedside, pulled out his copy of Les Fleurs du Mal, and hoped Dr Hogan had been right about the waiting time. Not that he minded, when it was for Dean.

-

Cas and Dean wound up spending just over four hours in hospital, which were uneventful except for when Cas had to wake Dean up so he could get his cast put on and Dean called him ‘Mom’ (Cas made a mental note to tease him about that later).

They decided to take a cab back home, what with Dean still being doped up on pain medication and all, and that was a taxi ride Cas would never forget. Dean climbed into the backseat and almost immediately slumped into Cas’ side, refusing to sit up for the whole journey home. Instead he mumbled indistinctly to himself, words slurred into Cas’ shoulder, which made the driver glance at Dean worriedly in his rear view mirror every now and then. Cas gave him a large tip when they left the cab to thank him for not saying anything.

When they got home it took Cas considerable effort to coax Dean out of the car and up the stairs into their apartment. Dean stayed pretty much asleep the whole way, leaving Cas to carry most of Dean’s (not inconsiderable) weight himself. Eventually they reached Dean’s bedroom and Cas deposited his friend on the bed, before helping Dean out of his outer layer of clothing while Dean mostly cooperated. He made sure Dean was tucked under the covers, bottle of painkillers and glass of water on the table next to him, before switching off the light and making to leave the room. 

“Cas?” Dean rasped. Cas turned to see his friend staring at him across the dark room, light from the hallway just catching his eyes. Dean looked more alert than Cas expected and he was suddenly worried about what Dean might say. 

“Yes Dean?” Cas said, tentative.

“Thank you. For everything. You’re the best, uh, friend that I’ve ever had.” A short pause, then, “Will you stay with me?”

Cas’ heart clenched. Dean’s words were exactly what Cas had wanted to hear for a long time, and the fact that he had only ever said them while mentally incapacitated with drugs hurt more than he cared to admit. He wanted to stay. He wanted to crawl into Dean’s bed and curl up next to him, sharing his warmth, so badly that he thought he might cry. 

But he couldn't, because while giving in would feel great for the next eight or so hours, when morning came and everything went back to normal it would feel like pulling a knife out of his own stomach. Cas couldn't risk it. He had to protect himself. 

So instead of saying yes like he so wanted to, Cas answered, “I'm not sure that's a good idea. Get some rest, Dean.”

He left the room without looking back, climbed into his own bed, and didn't drift off to sleep until the first light of dawn began creeping in through the window. 

-

Cas decided to stay at home the next day to take care of Dean, figuring he'd work on an English paper he'd been sorely neglecting. Dean, for his part, slept for twelve hours and when he came to was subdued but embarrassingly grateful for the tomato rice soup Cas brought him. 

They didn't talk about what had been said the night before, and Cas selfishly hoped it was because Dean couldn't remember it through the painkiller-induced haze. 

It was another day before Dean felt well enough to leave his room and move to the couch where Cas was still sat working. They hadn’t seen much of each other and Cas was worried at how withdrawn Dean had become. Cas noticed when Dean entered the room that his friend looked upset, which only worsened his anxiety. 

“Is your arm hurting?” Cas asked in concern. 

“No Cas, I broke my arm and by some miracle it doesn't hurt.”

Cas ignored Dean’s sarcasm. “You're in pain,” he said, matter of fact.

Dean smiled sardonically, staring at the blank television screen. “Not in the way you're thinking.”

Cas’ brow furrowed in confusion. “Dean, if there's something I can do to help, please—”

“Don't, Cas,” Dean bit out, standing. But he must have jolted his arm badly because he winced in pain and almost tripped over the coffee table. Cas jumped up and reached out to catch him but Dean just shook him off with, “No, stop! You don't have to help me, okay?”

“What are you talking about?!” Cas asked in surprise. 

Dean sighed, grimacing as he adjusted his sling. “I know I must be a burden to you.” Cas tried to interject but Dean just spoke over him. “You don't need to lie to me, Cas. I'm a burden and – and I remember the other night. When we came home from the hospital.” Dean looked down at his feet, sad. “I remember what you said and I know you don't - can't feel the same way about me. I realise that you probably feel uncomfortable and like you'd rather not be around me right now, so you can stop pretending to want to help or whatever.”

Dean had walked away and was almost in the kitchen before Cas could control his gaping mouth and respond to Dean’s utterly inexplicable speech. “You're not a burden.” Dean stopped. “And I'm not embarrassed. Quite the opposite, actually.” Cas stepped closer and Dean turned around, looking confused but hopeful. “I said no because I thought you weren't yourself then, and that you couldn't possibly say those things if you were in your right mind.”

“The only thing the morphine did was make me feel brave enough to say what's been on my mind for – well for years, I guess.” Dean blurted, eyes wide. “It was pretty bad timing, right?” He said, softer.

Cas took Dean’s good hand in both of his own and stepped closer. “It was perfect,” he whispered, “I was the jerk for not realising you meant it.” Cas looked earnestly at Dean, and he couldn’t help it when his gaze trailed down to Dean’s full, pink lips.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean.”

Dean nosed at Cas jaw and Cas’ heart beat hard and loud in his chest. “Can I kiss you?”

Cas answered him by grabbing Dean's face and pulling those lips to his. Dean’s laugh came out muffled but Cas drank it up, drank it all up, kissing Dean until his lips felt chapped and raw.

Needless to say, when Dean asked Cas to stay later that night, Cas found it very easy to say yes.

**Author's Note:**

> (i did no research for this, please accept my apologies if anything is wildly inaccurate.)  
> my tumblr is scullsy.tumblr.com if you want to check in!


End file.
